Finding My Way Home

Below is the story of my journey home for the holidays last year. This was written last January, but has been resonating strongly in my heart. Its good to be home.

You should also watch this once you're done.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QO50jHl2LLY

the story...starts...now.

With a flash, Christmas had arrived, and it was time for me to make my first journey back home to Texas to spend some time with Family and Friends for the holidays. The trip would be short, as over the prior summer I had seen fit to book a trip with a group of long time friends to head to Africa for two weeks to Summit Mt. Killimanjaro, and then to move on to Zanzibar for a nice beach holiday to find rest and respite from the winter’s cold which was now in full swing in the UK.

As the days to my return home neared it seemed that the journey would not be without complication, as an early winter snow storm had taken grip of London and had proven sufficient to cripple transport around town. More importantly Heathrow Airport was found entirely unprepared for such weather and was suffering days of back to back closures, stranding thousands of travelers in the airport’s sterile corridors hoping and waiting to make their journey home. Headlines were dominated by images of thousands of people stranded, sleeping on floors and in hallways, trying to find their way to the ones they love.

Despite the troubles the snow had caused for so many, London was beautiful for those days leading up to my departure, Hyde Park was covered in a blanket of white and its ponds were frozen through and through, making the normally lush green space a crisp and wintery playground. I left one morning to go for a winter’s run, and found the park in a quiet hum of activity as many had seen fit to take advantage of the beauty and wonder of pre-Christmas snow around London’s more typically wet and dreary streets.

As I trotted along my typical trails, I realized that the manicured pathways were irrelevant that day as the park had been converted to a single white blanket of snow dabbled with snowmen and families strolling in wonder. I cut through the sparse trees and towards round pond, and then slowly made my way towards the Serpentine and then back past the Peter Pan Statue through Kensington Gardens. My mind wandered different directions with thoughts of the months before as my feet carefully trodden the hard frozen ground. As I made my way, I hoped the beauty at my feet wouldn’t serve to add my name to the list of those stranded in London over the holidays without the comfort of family or long time friends to warm the cold holiday nights.

A friend of mine was scheduled to fly out that Sunday, his flights were cancelled and had been rescheduled to head to California on Christmas Eve. I knew that if I didn’t make it out on the following Tuesday, when I was scheduled to fly, that I was stuck. I kept hopeful knowing that no volume of my thoughts or concerns could change the weather, so I resigned to enjoy those last few days and readied myself for both my trip home.

So in those final nights, the roar of my Christmas social schedule had been dulled to a whimper and I had a few quiet moments to gather my thoughts and things. My first two months had been amazing, and far exceeded anything that I could have hoped, yet I was ready for a trip home to get reacquainted with the life and lives I had left behind. While I was content where I was and with the progress I had made, knowing that so many dear friends were within reach only served to fuel my excitement of the trip home. On the cold morning of December 21^st, I woke up early to endeavor to get home.

My casual work schedule hadn’t served me well that day, as my urgency to get out the door wasn’t appropriate for what little time I had to actually get to the airport. But with what felt like ample time to spare I made my way to the my Underground stop, to get to Paddington and then onward to catch a train to Heathrow. In typical fashion, seconds of delays can translate into minutes, and in some case hours of disruption in London. I arrived at my stop just in time to wait, and wait, I began to get impatient as the typically slow moving train was most surely delayed by some strange circumstance, I chalked it up to the weather and waited alone on the empty platform.

Before long I could hear the train rumbling down the tracks, and attempted to make the quick transfer at Paddington station. I arrived in perfect time to see the train to the airport pull away without me, just a few seconds earlier and this wouldn’t have been my fate. I had been preparing myself for the heartbreak of having my flights cancelled so my expectations were well tempered, but now the idea of heartbreak had been replaced by a thing much more like reality. My resignation to chaos needed fine tuning, this was nothing I could control, and so I deepened my resolve and carried on. It would be twenty minutes before the next train departed, so there was nothing I could do now, but wait.

The night prior I had watched an old Christmas film that was blessed by the Beatles tune, “All You Need Is Love”, the simple chorus became my mantra that morning, and so I hummed in repetition and in some cases quietly sang to myself “All you need is Love…”. I assumed I couldn’t be heard, but either way I wasn’t self conscious in the slightest, as the simple tune seemed to quiet my hearts concerns in steady time. Ironically the Film, Love Actually, which was okay, not by any means the best I had seen, both opened and concluded at Heathrow’s arrival gates. While the film in total had no major resonation with me, it did contain images of people reuniting, sharing deep forgotten embrace, showered in love, they had arrived home. Now this, this thing, struck a chord in my heart. Thoughts of how richly blessed I was to be where I was, doing what I was doing, to be loved, to be known, to be wild…Life was amazing, and I was deep in its veins.

Twenty minutes passed at a snail’s pace, and while the humming was losing its effectiveness I assured myself that it would all sort out and it was beyond my influence in any case. I checked my watch. If things went smoothly from here in I’d be fine, but who knew what I’d find at the airport turned homeless shelter upon my arrival. Aboard the train the BBC broadcast news of terminal closures, of which mine was included. I had called the airline earlier that day and was told things were on schedule and my flight was one of a few planned departure, yet I didn’t know who to believe nor what was true. So I made my way to the check in line, and waded through a scene that was unlike any airport chaos I’d ever seen.

Lines of people streamed out the terminal doors, and inside, the chaos was consolidated but entirely uncontained. Queues of frustrated travelers snaked around the stanchions for what must have been miles. There weren’t many happy faces that day, and looks of caution seemed in fashion as everyone appeared to comprehend the delicate nature of the situation. I was lucky enough to have a relatively short line, and I had an hour and twenty five minutes before my flight departed. Above the check in sign a note read “Check-ins must be completed prior to 1 hour before departure’, I checked my watch again and cautiously counted the heads in front of me. I have a trained analytical mind, so doing math in moments like these seemed to provide the comfortable illusion of control. I hummed the chorus again, and hoped the pace would quicken..."all you need is love..."

I stood in line and watched the minutes tick away, I looked around as the expanse of humanity seemed to unravel before my eyes. First a young woman burst into tears and began sobbing, while I’m unsure of her plight I can only imagine this was the culmination of days of frustration and cancellations. I assumed she had just received the final and devastating news that she may never make it home. My heart broke a little for her and a then a little for myself, while my future was still unwritten, I could easily find myself in her shoes in a matter of minutes. Next, a young Asian man burst into hysterical crying, screaming loudly in agony as if his one true love, his only hope had just died in his arms. An airline employee, tried to help him find composure, but after long the poor girl realized that no amount of reassurance would suffice, and it would be best to let this unravel on its own. My heart slowly sunk within me, no longer concerned for myself, I felt a helpless sadness for these people, these strangers, whose circumstances were all too real to ignore.

I was pulled into a separate line, to help facilitate the check in rate, so I stood alone behind the red ribbon band that separated me from the next available attendant who was helping one last customer. I had five minutes until the hour deadline would arrive, surely I’d be fine. I kept humming and watched the clock steadily pass. I searched my mind for a scenario that would allow me to not be frustrated at the man in front of me who seemed to be taking an eternity, and while I drew blanks, I knew we were all subject to a different authority in the airport and perhaps it was best to not employ the sake of my imagination for any cause as it would only prove to lead my mind and heart to a reality that might not be my own. At two minutes past the hour I was finally called to learn my fate..."all you need is love..."

The attendant confirmed my deepest fears that the flight was now closed, but immediately assured she’d be able to get me on. I recounted the past hour, had I left my flat a bit earlier, maybe caught the first train, perhaps this would have felt like a smaller victory, but my heart was blessed and richly so to know I was going home. After checking my bag, I resumed my humming with new fervor and made my way through security and into the eerily vacant halls of Heathrow’s Terminal 3, I was going home..."all you need is love..."

The halls were mine to roam, and so the hum turned to a quiet singing as a sigh of contentment passed through my lungs. As I slowly walked down that empty walkway, thoughts of the prior night’s movie crept into my head, and then quickly faded into the darkness as the light of my recollections of the past few months, the richness of God’s blessing, and the anticipation for all the great things I’d imagine would come upon my return grew bright and rich in my mind’s eye. I was living a life that only weeks prior I had believed was only a dream, and it was real, and it was beyond what I could have imagined; it was amazing. I think I couldn’t have hoped for so much in the days prior to leaving Texas, and yet here I was, in a new world, a big world, which seemed so full of new possibilities for me. At the end of the hall I could see the departure lounge was starting to clear as I made my way ahead on the metal moving walkways. And then, one stark image served to pierce all the events and feelings of that morning in a way I would have never guessed. "all you need is love..."

Amidst my musical pacing down that long hallway, my eyes were suddenly fixed to a most familiar face whose eyes and outspread arms seemed to embrace my very soul on first sight. Two years prior, I had taken a trip with a friend to visit Rio De Janeiro for a brief November adventure. In our time there we had made two trips to visit the Cristo Redento Statue (translated, Christ the Redeemer), which stands watch over Rio’s tropical shores. Our first trip up the steep slopes was thwarted by dense clouds, so dense in fact that we weren’t able to see past the tall statues shins. And while Christ’s shins should prove sufficient, we wanted the full view, so on our last day, when weather seemed to have cleared for the first time in days, we made a second trip up, hoping that the dotted clouds might break free and let us share in Christ’s view over that marvelous city. We were the first to arrive at the monument’s gate, and boarded a van alone to head to the top, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. No sooner had we arrived, had the clouds broken free to reveal the massive statue’s prominence with arms spread wide exposing the nail pierced hand’s of Christ, my friend, my redeemer. Set on a back drop of perfect blue sky, that image was one I would cherish, and would hope to never forget, and yet, some two years later, I found this same Christ as he peered out of a picture frame that hung on the wall, with arms outstretched as if to invite me in for a personal embrace.

I have a friend who always told me that coincidence is God’s fingerprints on our lives, and in that moment I couldn’t have agreed more. Who knows how many years that picture had hung, or if had even been noticed by the millions who passed it each year? Perhaps it was a relic from long ago, or maybe it had just been hung. Perhaps it had been a proposed addition to the hall that was subject to some budgetary debate or conflict to save money by the airports administrators. In any case, some interior decorator had managed to get it hung, and to hang it there where I would find it, and it was so perfectly what I needed in that moment.

I felt like somehow that picture was a clear message, a Holiday card from Christ himself, on his birthday to me. Here is what I imagined it would read:

“Chris,

Merry Christmas! I love finding you here and surprising you in this way, I know by your calendar I’m early as December 25^th is a few days away, but I think you’ll find that I’m right on time. I hope this holiday you know and understand that all you need is love, my love is all you need. I love you dearly, and I’m so glad you get to go home, and as you go, don’t forget that in my arms you’ll always find a home, forever. I am pleased to find you enjoying London, and I can’t wait to show you what’s next.

Merry Christmas,

JC”

I like to imagine that if Christ were here in person today, he’d send letters like that. At holidays, birthdays, big events and graduations, and sometimes at random occasions, just checking in, reaffirming his love, his dominion, and his well wishes for what is best in my heart and life. I need a personal Jesus, and I think that’s who Jesus is and was, the whole thing of faith, this world, and this life makes no sense to me without it. This is also part of the reason I send notes to people as frequently as is appropriate, for if Jesus doesn’t in fact have an email account, I might as well put mine to work on his behalf.

I stood for a moment and began to tear up with joy for all I’d been given, and for the simple blessing of going home. I was pleased to have found Christ there, and to be finding him daily in London, it was a good change for me, and I was reaffirmed in my course, and the course his hand was taking in my life. I didn’t know what lie ahead but whatever it was I would be pleased to find it when it came, and when it came I'd be pleased to know that there's always a way home...no matter how wild our adventures may be.

"All you need is..."

CP

Written 2008 - Rio. - http://chrispanoff.blogspot.com/2008/11/to-see-or-not-to-see-clouded-vision.html

Playing the Field

Life as we know it is a constantly changing battle field, where seemingly, in an instant the rules of the game and the circumstances of the playing field radically change. Though we might try to constrain and control life’s vast unpredictability, no sooner do we seemingly master the “rules of the game” do the very rules we’ve mastered become rendered obsolete by change. I think as I grow older, I learn more and more that the more I try to build complex rules of engagement into my life the less effective I become at everything I do. Today is different than yesterday, tomorrow will be different than today, as simple a truth as this may be, the more quickly we learn to embrace the fact that there is a constantly changing setting in which we must live the more quickly we can surrender ourselves to the renewal of our approach to life, love, and ourselves each day.

Each year, I try my best to go through two fundamental benchmarking exercises in my life, one for the past and one for the future. For the future, it's a matter of taking an assessment of where I am, where I’d like to go, and how I want to get there. For the past, I chronicle where I am, where I’ve been, and affirm the that which I have learned along the way. What’s interesting to me is that my plan for the future requires far more thought, yields much less joy, and seems to need constant revision to “update” for the reality of life’s dynamic nature. On the flipside, when I look at my past, and take a snap shot of all I’ve done, who I am, and affirm what truth is in my life, that seems so much clearer and it tends to yield far deeper reflection into the core of who I am as a young man.

It is easy to realize that the past is a far simpler beast than the future. The past it is anchored in time, it is unchangeable, it is unchanging, it simply is. The future, holds so much potential, and with our nature we as people naturally feel that the future is in our hands. We believe we can do things to dictate change, control the outcome, or alter our destiny. While I agree with the fact that we are in fact free-thinking, choice making creatures who largely get to decide certain things in our lives via our own freewill, I struggle with the fact that our freewill is not free from be imposed upon by our circumstances. No matter how much a prisoner wills to be free, how much the lame will to walk, how much the blind will to see, often will alone is not sufficient to alter the playing field of circumstance. So what then are we left with? How then will we try to build up the rules of engagement in our lives to account for such an untamable beast as the future?

As the years progress and I have the benefit of more experience, and more data points in my life with which to engage in my personal reflection/self assessment, the more I realize the more we need (I need) to cling to simple foundational truths in my life. I think part of the reason my yearly review of my past, is so much more fruitful then my yearly planning of the future, is that all my past is totally devoid of the semantics and schemes of control in my life; it already happened. All the complexity of execution is gone, and we’re left to look at the results for better or worse, we’re left with the truth about the choices we’ve made, who we are at that point in time, and we’re left to survey the landscape of life and know some really great things. Who am I being? Who am I really? How do the person I am, and the person I want to be line up? Am I content? Why not? Should I be?...you can ask none of these questions about your future, you can only take your past in the context of your present, to make choices about what you’ll do today, in the hopes that we may achieve the best alignment of the truth we know and the lives we live.

For me, each year it is simple truth that seems to provide the most foundational instruction for my daily life, and it is by embracing truth that I am better equipped to do the things, and be the man I desire to be. When I look back, I think I was a victim of myself for many years, I tried to control, plan, and engineer my life so that I would achieve “success”, but what does that even mean? Professional advancement? Increased Wealth? Better fitness? More friends? More fun? I’m not so convinced that any of that really matters, rather I’m convinced those things and the laundry list of other things we might chase in this life are circumstantial truths, or the context in which REAL truth plays out. In order for truth to really “work” in our lives, we must have the ability to apply it in all contexts, at all times to account for this quickly changing playing field we’ve all been thrust into.

My list is short, my mission statement is broad, the concepts are simple. And ultimately it boils down to love. Who am I? A man loved greatly, by great friends, a wonderful family, and the unfailing inexhaustible love of God who made me to be great by his definition not my own. What do I want to do with my life? love people boldly, fearlessly, and wildly. What’s great about that is that I have opportunities to be who I am, and do what I want to do every day. I can do this in all times in all places. Do I come up lacking sometimes? You bet. Will I keep on trying? You bet. What’s most amazing to me is that what I want to do is made possible mostly by how I define who I am, and who I am is affirmed in what I want to do…it seems to work.

We seldom get choices in life about which playing field we’ll be on, we only get choices about how we’ll play…so go get after it, and simply be the best “you” you know how to be. Anchor to things that matter, and it makes the process a lot easier.

Playing hard,

CJP

The Last Train Ride - Readiness

As I made my way to the Royal Oak station for the last time this morning, everything in the world seemed to be in steady flow, it was the type of morning I had come to understand as a rare luxury during my short time here in London. I walked through the now familiar turn styles, down the dirty stair case, and was met by an uncrowded train in perfect time. There is little that feels better than a perfectly timed commute. I stepped through the doors of the train and found a seat in the last car of the train, I started to reach for my headphones but decided I would enjoy this, my final ride, in its full glory.

In many ways, commuting in London yielded some of the greatest change in my perspective on daily life. I don’t think I learned tons of new lessons, but I did learn new bigger importance of truths in my life and what they can mean in the simple small contexts of daily life. I learned much about diversity, about the big vast humanity that God so dearly loves. I learned to be more patient and gracious, I learned how little my plans and agenda mean, I learned to not be so frustrated when obstacles present themselves in the way of my often selfish desires. I learned that my orchestrated life of convenience had actually turned out to shelter me from great change and some great adventures. Above all, I think in many ways I learned to live my life with an open-handed grip and learned to pay closer attention to the millions of miracles we can see each day if we so choose to live unattached and attentive lives.

I sat in my seat quietly, embracing the surreal sensation of finishing a chapter in my life. It was a good chapter, but it is over, and in two days time I return home to a very new old life. I think I am ready, I am ready to put to work the new ideas and perspectives I’ve gained, and lay to rest some old silly notions that I have come to learn were keeping me from knowing and living a fuller and truer life.

As we pulled up to Paddington Station, three passengers boarded the train and sat in the seats across from me. Two of them were mentally handicapped men, both appearing in their late 30’s. They both wore matching shoes, and by most other measures seemed to match attire for the brisk morning air. The man on the left wore an Arsenal hat, and the man on the right had his identification documents around his neck in a purple carrying case. They smiled and chattered to each other in an excited and animated tone as they took their seats.

With them was a young Asian woman who was clearly with the men to escort them to their destination. The two chaps seemed entirely unconcerned with her presence, but occasionally would look to her to capture a moment of her attention and affirmation. She would answer warmly with a patient gentle tone, and though she seemed tired her compassion seemed to have a confident and steady resolve.

The train slowly clattered along, as usual signal failures, congestion, changing conductors all presented their own constraints on my progress east to the city, but this morning I found myself un-frustrated and un-concerned with the crawling commute. The two gentlemen continued on in their excited banter, beyond the fact that they were going on holiday, I gathered little as to what they were saying. I don’t think I needed to hear their words, because I caught the importance of their presence before me, that being, the simple joys of this life that we can find if we so choose to simply look for them. What I had grown to love about the tube was the consistent reminder of the smallness of me in the grand scheme of it all. Man, this world is so full of life, the good and the bad, there’s plenty of it all, and while we can do our best to maneuver towards comfort and satisfaction the one thing we can’t avoid is each other. And so there I sat, my thoughts wandering the landscape of the wonderful memories of my wonderful adventure.

No amount of planning or processing will ever make me ready to make some of the changes I want to make in my life. No volume of prayer or conversation, no amount of reading or consultation will replace the necessity of faithful action. Of all my hopes and desires for the days ahead, I have in the past weeks become less concerned with what they may hold and more concerned with how I might ready my heart to deal with whatever my life brings in the coming days, weeks, and years. The truth is I don’t care about the specifics, none of that matters to me, the where, what, how, when, and how of my circumstances are infinitely eclipsed by why I am where I am, why I do what I do, and the ultimate purpose for my time here, to be a conduit for the work and love of Christ.

We pulled in to King’s Cross and St. Pancrass station, and the two men along with the young woman stepped off the train, and more commuters shuffled on in their place, filling in the gaps. The vibrant conversation which until now had been filled the rail car’s dead air, was replaced with expressionless stares gazing intently at blackberries and iphones. The new cast made me smirk, we people are a strange lot. The conductor came over the intercom apologizing for the delay, and silence befell once again. The train lurched on, and my commute was drawing to a close.

I arrived at my stop at Moorgate and stepped off for what may be the last time at my station in the city, at least for a while. It’s amazing how fast things change, from strange to familiar and back again; it can be good if we let it be. I guess I’ve found that in light of all the variation, its best to travel light, to hold fast to what matters as the rest can fall away so quickly.

I guess that in better understanding my own transience in this life, I’ve come to better learn the value of what today can mean, and in understanding that I can only hope to be ready for today, and tomorrow if I’m so blessed. I walked up the train station stairs and around the corner to my office, I reached into my back pocket for my ID badge and swiped it for the last time. Before I put the card back I gave a quick look down to notice a word of profound relevance for me, in all caps and bold, the word “GUEST”.

Moving Forward,

CP

The Great Happy-Sadness

Six months ago I left my home to move to a place where I had never been, and I didn’t know a soul. Gradually as the days and weeks have passed this place has become far less of a strange wilderness to me, and has become a place where my heart has become alive and free in new ways…even to me, its hard to explain. It's a strange sensation, it’s not any one thing, it’s all things, it's a life of abundance …and it is truly remarkable.

My first weekend in London was perhaps the strangest and most unsettling 72 hours of my experience here. As one might imagine, a lot was going on and there was much uncertainty about the days ahead. Sunday morning, November 31^st I walked through the doors of a church in South Kensington and felt at peace for the first time in London, my worries about being homeless, having no friends, no idea what my life would become all faded to nothing, the shadows disappeared. I returned later that evening for a second service, I had nothing better to do, and no place better to be. What’s miraculous to me is as I walked through the doors of that once strange building yesterday evening, I was greeted by friends, people who have come to know and love me, and whom I have come to love and know. As I sat on the floor of the sanctuary, somehow I was in a place no less mystery about my life than that first Sunday.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been in quite a strange place, as my life here in London suddenly found itself on unsteady ground until last week when I’ve received some resolution and clarity, that I will in fact be returning home in the coming weeks. As I’ve had plenty of time to ponder the notion of going back to the states, I’ve had this flood of mixed emotions about the whole thing; in total everything I feel is positive, but perhaps it's the direction that I’m heading that makes what I feel, feel so dismantled.

It’s so odd to be leaving a place I now consider home, to a return to a place that I consider home. It is strange now to leave friends and a life I love, to return to different friends and a different life I love. To have a life so full of goodness is quite overwhelming, to have nowhere to hide from people who care about me and people that I care about is kind of crazy, but how wonderful a blessing.

What’s funny is that when I came over to London there was this vast expanse of uncertainty that clouded my life, It wasn’t doubt or fear, it was by no means bad…it was just a wild and untamed future, full of possibility, full of the unknown. While things circumstantially have become more familiar on the ground here in the UK, I have somehow come to possess a new sense of wonder about my own life, and the possibilities of what I might do, and who I might become as a man. As I make steps towards returning home, I feel a new sense of wonder about an old place with which I have much history. And as he often does, God has revealed a new chapter in my life by concluding another…

While I am not certain as to what lays ahead, I am certain however it is the way forward. There is an ocean of thoughts and feelings swirling around, but that sea will be stilled with time, what’s great is that I’m full of good thoughts and good feelings, as I’m so overwhelmed to have so many amazing people in my life.

It will be bittersweet to head back home as I’ve grown so fond of the many great people who have become a part of my life here. I truly don’t believe that I will ever in my heart of hearts say goodbye to those I’ve met over the past 6 months, as they have shaped me in so many meaningful ways and I think I’ll carry the memories of this experience for years to come.

But for now it is onward to whatever lay in store, a great mystery unfolds…

CP

Being Simple Minded.

Space in London is in short supply, despite how big this place is and how big it might feel, there are more than a few people who fit into this big city, and because of this we all must learn to share what space we have. On the tube, on the streets, and even in our small living spaces there are infinite compromises to be made in life in such a large expanse. Over my past months here I’ve learned a lot from the constraints of my new life, and have sought to live in a far simpler way than I had previously had in Texas. It was no small change, but it has been a change that has yielded much in my thoughts on life from here forward and how I want to arrange myself and the things in my life. Were it not for my life in America I think everything here would feel totally normal, but years of programming a certain “way of life” makes what would otherwise feel adequate have the appearance of being small and constrained. Yes, I can seldom cook breakfast without having the mess spill over into my living room, and yes I have to wash my dishes by hand…and now my clothes washer is broken too…but it’s amazing how once we accept a new simple reality for ourselves the freedom we might find.

Moving over to London, I ridded myself of 10 years of accumulation, and took what only seemed appropriate for the months I planned to be here. That process alone exposes a lot, and begs much about why we have so much and why we feel certain things have value, necessity, and importance in our lives. Until recently I never had felt like I had too much, I always felt like I had just enough, but maybe never paused to realize that “just enough” had been growing little by little year over year. While my taste is pretty simple, and while much of what I spend I can rationalize, I am coming to feel that much of the effort I have made over the years to make life more simple has manifested itself via an increase in the amount of complexity (stuff, clutter, etc) in my life.

Now things aren’t bad, or they don’t have to be, but I think we so easily take for granted the level of luxury that is common place amongst us. I know that my generation is learning, or at least trying to become more thoughtful, appreciative, and aware but I feel despite all the slogans we’ve invented we’ve got miles to go and we’re all (myself included, and perhaps especially) detached from the realities of what keeping it simple means. If we live only in a hypothetical understanding of anything, whether it be simplicity or some other broad topic, we do not live in understanding of it at all.

Groceries have become the single most regular reminder of the excesses in my life. Any time I go to the store in London, I must carry home all that I purchase. Pretty much no matter where I shop I am at least a 400M walk to my door, plus the 57 stairs to get to my flat. I can’t help but think the fact that I’m purchasing loads of food that I struggle to carry might communicate something about the way my life is set up…again, not saying it’s wrong, just important for me to be aware of. And it can (if you allow it) trigger some thought provoking lines of questioning. What’s been interesting is that despite the royal pain that it is to go to the store every other day, and lug seemingly small loads of food and daily goods back to my flat, there is much satisfaction I’m finding in having less each day, and the flexibility it provides to live a life seeking my daily bread, in this case, both literally and figuratively. I heard someone once say that things by their nature are constraining not liberating, and the more we have the more we have to manage, and the more distracted we become from the bigger pursuits of our time…it couldn’t be more true.

Look, I know it might be a bit of a stretch…and yes I buy less because I don’t have a car or a “normal sized” fridge…and yes going to the store once a week is easier and smarter than once a day…BUT I’m just considering what I’ve compromised at the sake of convenience over the past years.

Despite my best efforts to simplify, I’ve found my solution is to do that with “more”, it's a pattern I’m working to break in my life mainly because I don’t really know what more I need. There are certainly things I want but I’m trying so desperately to want the right things, and the right things aren’t things at all. A new snazzy suit or an ipad are certainly not going make me a better man, but somehow the presence of stuff provides yet another illusion of comfort in our lives. We are taught to believe that more means more fulfillment; why else would bigger houses, super sizing it, faster cars, and the whole myriad of other upsizing quests that we’re so inclined to hold such appeal? This simply isn’t true, and it's a great illusion that our world has been susceptible to for generations, and I think only now are we starting to come to grips with the implications of this way of living both in our lives and in the world as we know it.

About two months ago walking through the antique markets in Paris, I was faced with the stark reality of how much stuff we generate as people. As I popped from stall to stall, in an old antique market I started to think of how much beauty had been lost in the name of progress and how much we’ve left behind in the purpose of “advancing” . As I waded through the mounds of old trinkets and household goods, records and photographs, toys and books smelling the French cuisine through the stiff winter air, I started to think about how far gone we all are, and how our bigger and better worldview might take a toll on us all before long. All this stuff has got to go somewhere, and in a few years that same antique market will be stocked full of the relics of today.

I’m now living with probably 25% of the stuff I had back home, and I’m perfectly fine, and still in many regards teetering towards excess, which is quite odd to pen down, but I guess part of what I’m seeing for myself is the abundance of what I already have. I think often the luxuries of our lives often end up as clutter that clouds our vision towards that which really, truly matters. The more that we obtain the more distracted we become from what we’ve been endowed. Even if just temporarily, we could allow ourselves to depart from the comfort we believe that is afforded via complexity, might we find how rich we are, and how that has so little to do with what fills the vacant spaces of our homes.

When its all said and done, I’m coming to know and understand full well how abundant my life is, and it has nothing to do with stuff. And while I have much in terms of things, the abundance for which I am most thankful is the love that has blanketed my life and made me whole despite the volume of toys in my toy box. The good Lord has afforded me much, and yet the thing I’m most changed by is not that he would provide me with such luxury but rather it is simply knowing him.

Simplifying on the daily,

CP

http://chrispanoff.blogspot.com

Shiny Happy People

It has been roughly a month since my return from Africa, and since my return I have come to find new sorts of life in London. I don’t know if it was the circumstances around my holiday or a heightened sense of awareness, but either way I feel like recently I have developed an acute sense of awareness of the people around me, and the implications of life in such a vast place.

I feel as if I was so flooded with feelings and thoughts about things in my life and on this course that I am on, that it took a few weeks of floundering about to get a grip and start making some strides to have my life and heart be focused on the right things. I guess the strange thing about all these thoughts, is not so much what they are about, but rather the fact that after all the time I spend processing things, I come back to a point of realization that most of what I see doesn’t matter, and that love, people, and God are all that should be our focus (reference the “Golden Rule” of Christianity). I’ve heard the word simplexity used before…it’s not a word…but it captures the essence of it. Life really is simple…but we are really complex…all these things play out somewhere in the middle; I guess perhaps that’s what simplexity is.

I will say that of all my travels to so many places, there is only one constant I have found, that being people. The backdrops and landscapes of this world vary dramatically, as do the cultural anthropology and history of nations…but we as people are very much alike. To me fact is the most amazing thing, that despite being worlds apart and seemingly so varied that we are all in this together, passengers on a ship that for all intensive purposes appears to be sinking. The coexistence of our infinite uniqueness and haunting similarity seems impossible…yet its really quite true.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve just been puzzled by what to do with my thoughts about people…they have mostly been questions or observations, and they haven’t yet formed a course of action. I feel like I’ve opened a big puzzle and am just staring at some pieces…over time I trust these things find their place, but it does take time. I’ve kind of broken this down into the fragments I’ve gathered…not sure this makes any sense, but after thorough examination not much really does, I suspect that’s what faith is about.

The massiveness of life with masses
The other day walking out of a tube stop, I counted the number of people I passed on one side…I counted 50 in the standing lane, implying another 50 in the walking lane, and another 100 on the other escalator…200 people at a moment in a underground rail station…the stream constantly being recycled. It’s just so funny that so many people could be so close to each other and never interact, never engage. Irrespective of what you make of life in a big city you can’t escape the immensity of it all, there is nowhere to hide. To think that I was in proximity to something upwards of 1,000 individual people just on my way to the office is kind of crazy, yet I interact with next to none of them.

As I’ve been looking at the world around me, I’ve become very sensitive to the number of people I see each day, and the expressions they wear. It’s actually quite amazing when you look beyond someone and try to figure out what they’re thinking or how they feel, what’s on their mind, what’s on their heart. It’s also amazing how something as simple as a smile, can communicate so much and break down so many barriers. I’ve tried to make that my mission in commuting, to say nothing, yet to be different in the way I act towards strangers. The more I look around at these people the more my heart is full of compassion for the human race and how delicate and disastrous mess we are. I can’t really describe it but, in looking at the world around me I’m finding quite a mess, and can’t find much of a solution beyond opening my heart and loving as best I can.

Things we hear, things we understand
I hear a wide array of languages each day, of all of the words I hear that don’t make any sense, there are two things I’ve come to understand in every language. These are genuine happiness (via laughter) and true sadness (via tears). I’ve become quite good at not even paying mind to all the strange languages and conversations I hear in my life as a passerby, however these two morsels of humanity I cannot simply be pedestrian to.

A few weeks ago, there was an Italian girl sitting at the bar by herself having a phone conversation, and while I sat sipping my latte, I noticed that as her voice began to strain and her Italian words started to become more difficult to speak. The conversation continued as she spoke into her mobile phone, then finally she could fight it no more, and her eyes gave way to tears. The conversation I could neither understand nor hear in full, but the tears said plenty that I could understand. I don’t know what caused her pain, but I knew what I saw…I still wish I would have hugged her, and been able to tell her that it would be alright; I think we all need reassurance every now and again. It is in moments like these, that somehow I feel like there is a way for us break down the dumb barriers of comfort that we hide behind, I think the world could perhaps become a better place if we did…or maybe I would just feel better about it all.

Being a stranger
Part of my fear of a place as big as London for myself has become the comfort of anonymity and how easy it is to remain a stranger, to build up walls to hide behind, comfortable nests of false intimacy, and create a new life of being unknown and unknowable. I don’t feel that I’m doing that…or at least I’m taking pause to consider things in my life in this regard. Maybe the most concerning part about it all is how easy it is to do, how much easier this false type of life feels here; I suspect it all boils down to a choice of a way to live with your heart really exposed, really loving, really living, and letting the rest fall out where it may.

Broke
Watching the situation unfold in Egypt over the past weeks has been really moving to me, I hate seeing the violence and I hate seeing people in such disarray, but I keep on coming back to the similarity of us as humans and can’t help but think if the people I pass every day hurt any less…they hurt and struggle differently no doubt…but I’m not sure it’s any more or less, just different. It seems that the constant progress of the human race can’t escape the constant vacancy and need for something more, and not more in a material sense. I am beginning to see it regularly on the faces of just about everyone I see.

If progress or industrialization or becoming more civilized were the solution the western world would have long outgrown human dissatisfaction, yet it hasn’t. If money were the thing, then rich people would all be happy…some of the most miserable people I know just so happen to be the wealthiest. I’m pretty confident that there is no human solution to the human problem, there is nothing WE can do that solves the problems WE make for ourselves…for this we need grace, we need love, and we need it perfectly, not as from ourselves

What’s maybe most confusing to me in all this random babbling, is that all these things make me want to engage more. Despite the messes of the masses, the pain, the turmoil, the bitterness, and the cold-heartedness I do not feel it’s beyond repair, and maybe just maybe it just takes caring a little more about people, worrying a little less about my agenda, loving more genuinely, giving more of my away and trusting that Christ is enough to satisfy (really). That's a good deal in my book, maybe the whole world won’t be changed by my life, but perhaps that’s not my job…perhaps I’ve been given a random band of riff raff to love for a reason.

Being Unique
On the way to the airport Friday afternoon, I saw a news piece on a guy who collects photographs of snowflakes. He travels to cold places and catches the falling snow on his microscope slide and then photographs them. Snowflakes are amazing when you look at them in detail, and most incredible of all is that they are all entirely unique, not one like the other. They are all formed under different circumstances, and all take different shapes, they have the same limitations of thermo physics (as in, they melt when it’s too warm), yet they’re all snow…entirely unique individually, entirely the same collectively, no one flake more special than the other, but all special. Somewhere in all this I guess we have to find where we fit, both similarity and uniqueness, and I think we’re called to celebrate both. Never neglecting how different we really are, but always finding a middle ground.

The picture on the box of the puzzle
So after it’s all said and done, I think we are left with a quite a conundrum, somehow finding a way to make sense of all the pieces of the puzzle. I believe if we take our eyes off the pieces and start looking at what the pieces are supposed to become we may get some sense of clarity. With time, and work, and patience all the thousands of tiny pieces starts to have clarity. I know it’s hard to take those big leaps to start sorting out the crap on our own, but the funny thing is none of this stuff has significance, but rather, it’s just a medium for Christ to do significant things. Yet there is a certain clairvoyance about life that comes when you can shrug off the nonsense…job, home, wealth, beauty, the whole lot doesn’t mean a thing…loving people, loving God is all that matters, from there we can use the senselessness to start making sense of it all, ourselves, and maybe even each other.

So, there’s a bunch of mental vomit…good luck.
CP